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Summary

Jake doesn’t remember a lot about the hospital in Two, but right now he wishes he remembered a little less.

Or that there was any chance whatsoever that he was delusional right now.

But no, he apparently used up his entire lifetime’s worth of luck not getting killed in the cave-in, because the doctor who comes into the room is definitely the same doctor he tried to flirt with in Two, and he’s definitely at least as hot as Jake remembered, and there is definitely no way to look cool to someone who’s here to examine the scarred mess of what’s left of his leg.

Summary

"If the step were not being taken, if the stumbling-forward ache were not alive, the bombs would not fall, the throats would not be cut. For every bomb is proof that the spirit has not died."--The Grapes of Wrath

The die is cast, the spark set, the flame growing. Zea finds herself swept up in a world she never dreamed of; Sara has been dreaming of setting this fire for years. What can a few people do against the Capitol? Much more than they ever expected.

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Summary

Sara knows it’s bad when Rokia isn’t at the shop when she gets there from school. Confirms it when Rokia comes in later, furious and breathless, Kadi on one hip and a battered duffel over her other shoulder. She barely glances at Sara, on her way up the stairs to the office where Sal’s been holed up doing paperwork. At the very least, the latest attempt to get Mata to watch the girls after school apparently isn’t working. But this feels like more than that.

What do you do when you can't fix the real problems? For Sara, it comes down to helping where she can. Even if that means breaking some laws.

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Summary

This is a bad idea. Lyme’s not sure she’s up for mentoring at all, much less with a kid she doesn’t know from a district she’s only been to on Tours. What does she know about any of what this girl’s been through?

But she needs somebody, and there isn’t anybody else.

That’s what it comes down to, really. There isn’t anybody else.

Lyme's never been good at looking away from kids who need her. This time she's navigating without a map, this time the Arena's years long and barely over. But she can't not try.

Summary

Rokia grew up in District Six, where "Stay Alive" is good advice well before the Arena. When she's Reaped for the 71st Games, she counts on good instincts to keep her alive for the people at home who need her. Her mentor, Phillips, knows better than to hope, but she catches him hard from the start.

Summary

District Nine's prairies spawned the Progressives, back at the turn of the 20th century, and a fair few socialists in the 1930s–and in the Dark Days, the scattered Depots fought the Capitol by doing nothing: shipping no grain out, bringing nothing in, getting by the way folks out here always have–with hard work and ingenuity and more than a little luck.

So the Capitol sent everyone to the City, formed roving crews to plant and harvest as the seasons moved from South to North, and the depots became nothing but elevators, alone on the prairie at the ends of railroad lines, and crews crawled the spiderwebs of roads without seeing anyone else for weeks.

Hard to organize, out here. But there’s a few lonely rebels, meeting in the city in secret, waiting for a moment that’s come before on these plains. Electricity in the air like the sky before a storm, careful steps into something new...

Summary

Old Marethari, with all her grace and wisdom, had not seen past Merrill’s blood magic to her purpose. Had still loved her, and died for her, but it had been a pointless death, and Merrill knew that.

A small mercy then, Hawke thought, that she’d been able to deflect the clan’s ire enough that they did not attack. She would not have relished ending the lot of them, but if it meant defending Merrill from their bloody-mindedness, she would not have faltered.

Isabela and her, they were jealous as High Dragons about the things they loved.